


Of Blood and Gold

by burnshoney, chiquitablanquita, Kukkiscr



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Earthblood elves, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Political Marriage, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Katolis (The Dragon Prince), Political Marriage, Sarai Lives AU, Slow Burn, Sunfire Elves (The Dragon Prince), inkwelled's Suri!, janaya - Freeform, political marriage au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22920997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnshoney/pseuds/burnshoney, https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiquitablanquita/pseuds/chiquitablanquita, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kukkiscr/pseuds/Kukkiscr
Summary: Seven years ago, Queen Sarai of Katolis said goodbye to her husband. He rode off to find the heart of a titan, while she stayed behind to protect their kingdom and their sons.Now, King Harrow is dead. Xadia and the human kingdoms are on the brink of war, and General Amaya has been captured by Lux Aurea’s Golden Knight.If Amaya and Janai aren’t careful, the two of them might just start a war-- or stop one.[Sarai Lives! AU, Eventual Political Marriage]
Relationships: Amaya & Janai (The Dragon Prince), Amaya & Kazi (The Dragon Prince), Amaya & Sarai (The Dragon Prince), Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince), Harrow/Sarai (The Dragon Prince), Janai & Kazi (The Dragon Prince), Janai & Khessa (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 64
Kudos: 275
Collections: Read it!!, The Dragon Prince: Amaya x Janai





	1. Prologue

_Katolis_

_Seven Years Ago_

Sarai went to say goodbye to Callum just before dawn. 

She’d kissed Ezran goodbye while he was still sleeping, afraid that if she woke him, he would cry when she left. 

When she opened the door to his room, Callum was asleep, curled up in red blankets. Sarai sat down next to him, gently shaking his arm to wake him.

“Callum,” she whispered.

“Mom?” he murmured, sitting up and opening his eyes slightly. His gaze was glassy and unfocused as he blinked at his mother in confusion. Sarai sat down next to him and wrapped his small body in a hug. Callum slumped against her, yawning. 

“I love you,” she said. “You know that, right?” 

“I love you too, Mom.”

“I need to leave for a few days,” Sarai said, her son still wrapped in her arms. “But I’ll be back, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Sarai pulled out of their embrace to press a kiss to his forehead. Callum’s eyes had already drifted shut. Gently, Sarai laid him down, tucking the red blankets around his shoulders. Then, she stood and turned to leave.

She couldn’t help but look back at her sleeping son, small and fragile compared to the castle’s grand four poster bed. Her heart ached. 

But Harrow needed her. She might not agree with his decision to go after the magma titan, but she was still his wife. His best friend. His Crown Guard.

Sarai turned and left, closing the door quietly behind her. She made her way quickly through the castle halls to the armory, where her squire was waiting for her. 

When she entered the armory, it was silent. Looking around, Sarai searched for the squire, who she had asked the night before to prepare her spear and armor. No armor or swords had been set out. Everything was pristine, cold, and quiet. The only sign that anyone had been here at all were the lit torches, flickering against the walls. 

A hand tapped her shoulder in a familiar rhythm. _One. Two. Three._

Sarai turned to see her sister standing behind her, hair pulled back, and dressed in full armor. 

Amaya pointed at Sarai with both hands and an intense expression on her face, then opened both hands and brought her left down onto her right. Her left hand came up, index finger outstretched, and made a back and forth motion while moving her hand downwards. 

_“Going somewhere?”_

_“How did you know I was coming here?”_ Sarai replied.

Amaya shrugged. _“I know you. You’re planning on coming with us.”_

 _“Yes, I am,_ ” Sarai said. “ _Do you have a problem with it?”_

_“You aren’t a soldier or a Crown Guard anymore. You’re our Queen.”_

_“And?”_

_“What happens if you_ **_and_ ** _Harrow don’t make it back?”_

Sarai felt a lump in her throat. She had not thought beyond the horrible possibility that Harrow might be killed. That he might die alone, in a foreign land, if she couldn’t find the strength to fight alongside him, no matter their disagreements. She had protected him as his Crown Guard. She wanted, more than anything, to protect him now. 

_“Just think about it. Please, Sarai.”_ Amaya signed. She took Sarai’s hand and squeezed it tightly in hers. Then, she gave Sarai an awkward, armored hug, and left the armory. 

Sarai thought of Callum, curled up in the mess of blankets on his bed. She thought of Ezran, asleep in a nurse’s arms. She thought about the probability that if Harrow didn’t return, her people could be facing starvation.

She made her way out of the armory without collecting her spear or putting on any armor. In the early morning, the castle was quiet. A storm was blowing in. When Sarai headed out to the main courtyard, the sky was dark, and the air was humid. The wind whipped through the grate and across the tops of the trees. 

When she entered, the stable boy, Garrison, was standing next to her horse. The white mare was already saddled and prepared. Sarai placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You can return her to the stables,” Sarai said apologetically. “I am sorry for the trouble.”

“No trouble at all, your Highness!” the young man said. “I’ll take her back.”

By now, every head in the party had turned to look at her. All the members of the party were all saddled and mounted, ready to leave. Viren, her husband’s best friend and advisor, watched her carefully from his stead. His expression was carefully neutral. The two Queens of Duren looked from Sarai to one another. When Sarai passed Amaya, she met her sister’s eyes, nodding slightly. Amaya turned to look at Harrow, who had already dismounted, and began walking towards Sarai. 

“Sarai?” he said, brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

“I want to come with you,” Sarai said. Harrow reached his hands out to her, palms up-- an invitation. 

Sarai took them. His hands were warm and calloused, large enough to cover hers. She didn’t realize her hands ached with the cold until his warmth was seeping into them, protecting her fingers from the frigid air.

“Sarai…” he began. 

“I want to come with you,” she repeated. “But I can’t.”

Harrow stared at her for a moment, his eyes searching hers. 

“One of us needs to stay here,” Sarai said. Harrow’s hands squeezed hers. 

“Yes, of course,” he said softly, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t expect you to come.” 

“I want you to know that I will stand by your side through anything. Even if I disagree.” Sarai said, kissing the back of his hand. “I would go with you if I could. But I am not your Crown Guard anymore. One of us needs to stay here.”

Harrow’s eyes widened in understanding, and then he kissed her. He pulled his hands from hers to cradle her head, careful and gentle. They stayed there until droplets of rain began coming down, and Harrow pulled away. He rested his forehead on hers. 

“I made the right choice when I married you,” he murmured. “My Queen.”

He kissed her forehead, and then Sarai let him pull away. He turned and swung himself up onto his horse. When Harrow looked back at her, his lips pulled up into a slight smile.

“Fall out!” he said loudly, turning away.

As they rode away, Sarai pressed her fingers to her lips, then held her hand outwards. As Amaya rode by, she turned the back of her hand out and made a three fingered sign-- index, pinky and thumb out, middle and ring finger tucked against her palm. _“Love you. ”_

Sarai returned the sign. _“Love you, too.”_

Amaya spurred her horse forward, following Harrow, Viren, and the Queens of Duren out of the courtyard.

Sarai didn’t cry. _Queens don’t cry._

A week later, her husband came back with his best friend, the heart of a titan, and a widowed Queen of Duren. Amaya stumbled into the castle the next day, bleeding profusely from a cut beneath her eye, but otherwise unharmed. 

The spell worked. The chill in the air cleared, and both Katolis and Duren grew a plentiful bounty.

Then, the dragon attacks began. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I also want to say thanks to my wonderful co-creators, Kuki and Ames, and my beta ikknowplaces (here on AO3) for all the wonderful feedback, ideas, and general good times <3 
> 
> \- isa


	2. Chapter 2

_Fort Divisé_

_Present Day_

Janai still hated the smell of burning flesh. The fatty, faintly metallic scent filled the air, smokey and clinging to every surface imaginable.

She’d gotten used to the faint, burnt-flesh smell of a sunforged blade cutting through her enemies. It was awful, but not unbearable. She had adjusted. She hardly noticed anymore. 

But the smell of funeral pyres was something Janai didn’t think she could ever get used to. It was too much to go unnoticed. Thick, black smoke poured off of the pyres in waves, stinking like metal and cooking meat. She knew from experience that the smell would cling to everything. It wouldn’t be scrubbed from her skin or clothes for days, even weeks.

Janai watched, stone-faced, as her elves burned on their pyres. Her second, Namara, stood at her left-hand side. She was slightly shorter than Janai, but roughly the same build, with long blonde box braids. Namara stood straight-backed and perfectly still as she watched her beloved’s pyre burn. Silent tears cut clean tracks in the soot and golden war paint smeared across her brown skin. Janai put a hand on her friend’s back, beneath the armor that covered her shoulders. She felt Namara tremble. Namara closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. 

Janai opened her mouth to try to say something comforting, but she thought better of it. She wasn’t all that good at being comforting, and Namara was already struggling to hold herself together in front of their remaining troops. Janai’s words would only make it harder. And Namara wasn’t the only one who’d lost a lover today. They had to be strong. For their warriors. For their people.

Namara’s tears and the smoky funeral fires made Janai’s blood boil. These were good elves. They were lovers and friends, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers. They would never see their loved ones again, because Katolis wanted revenge for a crime that Lux Aurea’s people did not commit. 

King Harrow of Katolis and Queen Neha of Duren slayed the Dragon King and his son, Azymondias. Then, the Moonshadows slayed King Harrow and Queen Neha. And, if the rumors were to be believed, kidnapped King Harrow’s sons. The Moonshadows swore up and down that they had not ordered any kidnapping, but Janai didn't believe it. Neither did Khessa. In fact, she scoffed when their delegate said so.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Khessa said sharply, when the delegate came to the palace in Lux Aurea. “It’s _Lux Aurea_ that Queen Sarai’s troops will descend on. We can count on you for reinforcements, I trust?”

“We can hardly spare trained assassins for unrefined hacking at human troops.” the Moonshadow delegate replied. “We lost our every one of our best in the assassination of King Harrow.”

“And you think we have the troops to spare for a war _your_ people started?” Khessa snapped back. “You’re no fool, I trust. You know that Lux Aurea cannot hold against a full invasion right now.”

“I am aware. Though, since the Moongrove is safely hidden from human sight, I hardly think it is an issue for my concern. I recommend speaking to Queen Xiomara-- she would be of more help than I.”

“The Earthbloods are fierce warriors. But they are not capable of becoming shadow, nor are they _responsible_ for the human invasion at our doorstep.”

“And neither are we. The slaughter of Azymondias and his father was a crime that could not go unpunished.”

Khessa descended the steps of the throne, until she was a single step above the ambassador. She leaned in, the step lending her extra height. 

“I am warning you,” Khessa said dangerously. “Lux Aurea has a long memory. Whatever losses we suffer will not be forgotten.” 

“We’ll see what we can do.” the ambassador said mildly.

The human forces lead an attack on the Breach two days later. 

The Moonshadows didn’t have the grace to show their faces. Most of the Earthblood reinforcements were still traveling, with just a handful arriving before the attack. The human troops had badly out-numbered them. Their general managed to blow a hole in the Breach. They were lucky they only lost ten, if she was being honest. Even a Sunfire elf wouldn’t survive a hundred-foot fall into the lava river.

 _We captured their lead general_. _They retreated, and we hold the Fort._ Janai reminded herself, watching the funeral flames flicker. _It wasn’t a complete failure._ But it was still far too close to loss to sit comfortably with Janai. The force guarding at the border was small, maybe fifty elves at best. They’d lost one in five of them. 

Janai herself had nearly lost her life today. 

Their general, a woman with dark, uneven hair and a scar on her cheek, had disarmed her. Then, she took Janai’s sunforged sword and threw it like a javelin, hitting one of the gunpowder kegs her men had nestled in the cliffs. 

The explosion knocked Janai off of her feet, and she nearly slipped off the edge of the path. She managed to hold onto the edge by her fingertips, but her grip slipped, leaving her hanging by one hand over the river of lava below. Time slowed, and her heart pounded in her chest as she swung uselessly from the edge, trying to pull herself up far enough to grasp the ledge with her other hand.

When Janai looked up, trying to get purchase on the ledge, the human general was looking down at her. Janai’s breath stuck in her throat. She looked at the human, waiting for their leader to take her hard leather boot and grind Janai’s fingers into the dirt. She braced herself for the long, ugly fall, and the uglier landing in the lava below.

The woman dropped her shield and leaned down. Taking Janai’s arm with an iron grip, the human hauled her back up over the edge of the cliff. 

Janai helped the woman pull her up as soon as she could get purchase on the ledge. She threw herself back onto the path, and jumped to her feet.

They looked at each other for a moment. 

Then, Namara and two of their other elves had approached, dusty and battle worn, but intact. Each pointed a sword at the human general’s throat. 

Namara looked at her warily.

“What would you have us do with this one?” she said, bringing her blade closer to the woman’s throat. The woman didn’t flinch. Instead, she glared at Namara, hatred written all over her face. Namara ignored her, looking to Janai. 

“Bind her hands.” Janai ordered. “We’ll take her as a prisoner.” 

“General Janai,” Namara protested. “She…”

“The woman just saved my life.” Janai interrupted. “I will not have her executed on the spot.”

Namara schooled her scowl into neutrality. “As you command.” 


	3. Chapter 3

“Maybe humans don’t speak.” one of the guards, a young elf with spiky black hair, suggested. He approached Amaya’s cell to inspect her through the bars. “I’ve heard they’re simple. Like animals.”

“Sun and stars,” the other guard groaned. “You are _such_ an idiot. Of course humans can speak. Besides, I heard she almost beat the _Golden Knight_. She has to be at least halfway intelligent.”

“Why doesn’t she speak, then?” 

“I don’t know,” the guard said. She shot Amaya a glare, as if this was somehow her fault. Amaya looked back at her cooly, raising an eyebrow. 

She had been watching their lips intently, trying to gather any information she could, but it was little use. The cell beneath Fort Divisé was badly lit, and the two elven guards were several feet away. They also seemed to have some sort of regional variation in their speech, making even their use of the Common tongue difficult to read.

Suddenly, the two guards moved out of the doorway, each stepping to the side. They bowed, crossing their wrists and spreading their four fingers.

It was their leader. The elf with the burgundy dreadlocks and face-paint like tears, their general, entered the cell. She was still carrying her sunforged sword. Beside her was her companion, the blonde with gray eyes.

Amaya assumed that the guards’ gesture was some sort of sign of respect. Their leader waved it away and took a step towards Amaya’s cell. She looked down at Amaya.

“Who are you?” she said slowly. That much, at least, Amaya caught. She shrugged in response.

“Do you speak the Common Tongue?” the elf demanded. 

Amaya shook her head. Then, she held out her hand, curling in her pinky and ring fingers, and then tapped her index, thumb, and middle finger together. _“No.”_

“Do you think she’s refusing to speak?” her companion said.

“Maybe.” their leader said, scowling. “I don’t know.” 

“Can you speak?” the blonde elf demanded, approaching the cell and leaning forward to look at Amaya.

 _“Yes,”_ Amaya held out her right first and nodded it, irritated. The blonde turned back to her leader, and there was a beat of silence.

“Sun above,” their general whispered. “Perhaps she’s mute.”

The blonde elf scoffed. “Who would put a mute woman in charge of an army?”

 _“Deaf, not mute,”_ Amaya signed furiously, even though she knew they didn’t understand.

The burgundy-haired elf gestured at Amaya, as if to prove her point. The other looked at her dubiously.

“I don’t know why they would put her in charge of the battalion,” their leader admitted, turning back to Amaya. “But the only people I have seen using a hand language like that couldn’t speak.”

“Let’s say you’re right. Do we dispose of her? If she can’t speak, we won’t get any information out of her.”

“She showed me warrior’s honor,” she snapped. “I won’t see her killed yet. We’ll take her back to the city, and send off to the university for a linguistic specialist.”

The other elf huffed. Her leader turned to her, raising an eyebrow.

“Is there a problem?” her leader demanded. The other took a moment to respond.

“No,” she said finally. 

* * *

Night in the cell was dark. The two guards let the torches sputter out and stood outside the door to Amaya’s cell.

She breathed slowly, in and out. Sarai taught her to do that, if she was panicking. The unsettling feeling of being alone in a dark, enemy prison was like a boot on her chest. She could hardly breathe.

Amaya eventually collapsed against the wall into an uneasy sleep. She dreamed of the flash of a molten sword being drawn in the dark, the fire and heat of an explosion, and then falling. 

She woke with a start, curled in on herself against the wall. Her cheek was resting on the stone floor, dirt and dust gritting against her skin. 

She was greeted suddenly by a swift, sharp kick to the back of her thigh, hard enough to bruise. Before Amaya could orient herself, the elf grabbed her right arm roughly, yanking it in front of her and snapping a chained cuff on her wrist. Then, the elf snatched her left arm as well, forcing a cuff onto her left wrist, as well.

“Good news for you, human,” the elf said with disgust, hauling Amaya to her feet. “The Golden Knight wants you taken to the capitol.”

It was the same blonde elf from the day before. Amaya didn’t reply, but shot her a glare over her shoulder. When Amaya didn’t respond. the elf grabbed a handful of her dark, cropped hair and yanked her head back. Amaya yelped in surprise. The elf leaned over Amaya’s shoulder to whisper in her ear, breath hot and unpleasant. Her golden pauldron was cold and harsh against Amaya’s unarmed back.

“Listen closely.” the elf said. “Try to escape, and I’ll gut you myself.”

Amaya _knew_ she was speaking. It made her want to throw her hands up in exasperation. _How stupid are they?_ When Amaya didn’t respond, the elf let go of her hair and shoved Amaya’s head forward.

“Move, human,” she snapped. 

When Amaya didn’t move, she shoved roughly at Amaya’s back. Amaya took that as a cue to begin walking. The elf grabbed her arm with one hand, the other holding the length of chain that linked Amaya’s wrists. As they walked, Amaya tugged experimentally at her chains. There was a surprising amount of length between them-- enough for her to use her hands. _If she could just get her hands on a sword…_

They made their way from the dungeon cells through the halls of Fort Divisé, the grim place where Amaya had spent so much of her time in the army. Eventually, she was escorted out of the dark halls, and into the cloudy gray daylight. Even here, beyond the lava river, the air was hot and stank of sulphur. She’d hated that, once. After a night in the dungeon cells, it was almost refreshing.

The elves seemed to be preparing to leave, mostly dressed in the red and gold uniforms of the Sunfire elves. A few Earthblood warriors wandered among them in greens and blacks, faces painted with black, white, and red stripes. Their commander, who was standing in the courtyard, wore a feathered helmet in the shape of a bird’s face, decorated with a spray of reflective black, green, and red feathers. The Sunfire general, with her burgundy uniform and golden war paint, seemed to be talking amiably with him. 

_That’s the last thing we need._ Amaya thought irritably. The Earthblood warriors, few as they had been yesterday, were terror in battle. She could do without the combination of their forces with the Sunfire elves. 

However, the conversation seemed short lived. When the knight saw Amaya add the elf escorting her, she immediately began walking towards them. 

The elf holding Amaya shoved her to the ground in front of their general, forcing Amaya onto her knees. The gritty black mud of the courtyard ground soaked slowly through her pants, and crept into her boots. Amaya looked up, defiant. The burgundy haired elf was tall, even taller than Amaya. She was dressed in full armor. 

Amaya spat at her feet.

Amaya half-expected the elf to spit back in her face, or backhand her. She knew from experience that their leader was impulsive and prone to anger. One time, Amaya had managed to trick her into driving her own fist into a wall. The corner of her mouth quirked up at the memory.

The elf’s face contorted in anger, but she didn’t move. Instead, her eyes flicked to the elf standing behind Amaya. She said something Amaya couldn’t make out-- a name, maybe. Or a warning. Amaya felt something warm and slimy slide slowly from her hair down the side of her face. Spit. 

Amaya turned to see the expression of rage on the blonde elf’s face. She smirked triumphantly, looking back to the elf with the golden tears. She didn’t look impressed.

“How do you plan on getting her back to Lux Aurea?” the blonde elf asked. Her leader squatted down and grabbed Amaya’s chin, forcing Amaya to look at her. Amaya jerked her chin away from the knight’s fingers, but the elf gripped her tight. They looked at each other for a moment, and Amaya prepared to spit again. The elf released her chin before she could, standing. 

“She’ll walk,” the elf said finally, looking down at Amaya in disgust. “Find Amare and chain the prisoner between the two of you. We march for Lux Aurea this afternoon.” 

Amaya only caught a handful of her words. _March. Lux Aurea. This afternoon._

Kneeling there in the mud, Amaya felt a cold dread pool in her stomach. She had never been on any extensive reconnaissance missions into Xadia, but she’d heard stories about Lux Aurea. It was the Sunfire elf stronghold. At the center of the city-state was a massive gilded fortress, built on top of a plateau, surrounded by waterways and city guards. 

If they succeeded in getting her to Lux Aurea, she probably wouldn’t come back.

* * *

They traveled on foot through the mountains beyond Fort Divisé. The general took the lead, walking ahead down the uneven trails while the blonde elf and a handful of other soldiers followed. Amaya was chained between the general’s gray-eyed companion and another one of her soldiers, a tall elf with red-brown dreadlocks. They made their way cautiously and swiftly, the blonde elf behind Amaya and the other in front. If Amaya slowed, the elf didn’t hesitate to shove her along. 

The third time it happened, Amaya wasn’t expecting it. She stumbled and tripped, scraping her palms bloody on the rocky trail.

Their general turned back to see what happened. She shot a look at the blonde elf, but didn’t say anything. 

“Get up,” the general snapped at Amaya, backtracking from her place in front of the group to stand over her. Her sword hung just out of Amaya’s reach, an infuriating temptation. 

Amaya stood up to her full height, chin tilted in defiance. The elf was a bit taller than her, but not by much. 

Her eyes flicked to the sunforged sword at the woman’s waist. She could get ahold of it easily, if she wanted. But between the general and the two elves escorting her, she wouldn’t be able to fight them all off long enough to get away.

After a moment, the general turned back and continued down the path. They stopped a handful of times, never more than a few minutes. The elves would stop to rest, and drink water from sealed leather pouches. They didn’t give her any. She’d been marching all day, and her throat had dried to the point of aching. 

They stopped marching shortly before sundown, and their commander had her soldiers begin setting up a camp. The elves began pitching tents and collecting firewood. A few were speaking, but it was mostly quiet. Somber. 

Amaya was bound to a tree, and the elf with the red-brown dreadlocks stood over her, hand on the pommel of his sword. She watched with mild interest as the elves began arranging firewood. One of them cupped her hands together under her chin and leaned towards the firewood. A tiny, dancing flame appeared between them. Amaya’s eyes widened as she watched the elf blow softly across her palms, spreading the fire to the branches. 

She’d heard rumors, of course. Spies, scholars, smugglers, and storytellers all said that Sunfire elves could create and even control flames. For a long time, she thought it was a load of horseshit. But Amaya had seen their leader turn into some sort of heat-being, fire scorching through her veins and lighting up her skin. Whatever magic it was had turned the elf into a super-powered monster.

Her eyes flicked to the burgundy haired elf, who had come to speak to the guard. It was hard to follow their conversation, with the general standing at an angle, but whatever it was seemed to resolve itself. The general strode over to her and dropped one of the leather flasks in her lap. 

Amaya looked down at the flask, and then up at the elf. She made a face. 

“Water,” the elf said, nodding towards the flask. 

Amaya’s chains had enough length to allow her to open it. She sniffed the liquid, and poured a little out into her hand. She lifted a drop to her mouth and tasted it.

“It’s not poisoned,” the elf said, annoyed. 

Amaya snorted. _Like I’d believe you, anyway._ They had no motive to kill her now, not when they wanted information from her. If she didn’t take it, she’d eventually die anyway. She drank. 

That night, she slept in fits. She’d drift off only for her head to snap back up again, smacking into the rough bark of the tree. Tiny spores of light floated through the forest, drifting above her head and sometimes settling in the grass before blinking out. 

Xadia was a strange place. 

She woke again just before dawn, and find the campfire still blazing as it had been at dusk. The burgundy haired elf and her companion sat in front of it on a log, looking into the flames. The blonde elf had her head in her hands. The general moved her arm around the other elf’s waist, resting her chin on the top of the blonde elf’s head as her shoulders shook. As Amaya watched, she realized that the elf was crying.

There was something uncomfortable about watching the two elves this way, something beyond the fact that they hadn’t realized Amaya was watching. 

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It wasn’t hard. She was exhausted. 

* * *

They spent another three days hiking down the forested mountain paths, and another two crossing through the valleys and grassy plains along the foothills.

The afternoon of the seventh day, they passed through a wide swath of destruction. What must have once been a massive orchard had become a sea of black, gnarled tree stumps. A few trees still reached for the sky, the tips of their branches bleached white from the sun, but most had collapsed into the black soil. Grass poked up between stumps and logs, rolling in the breeze. 

Amaya didn’t think anything of it until they passed a hut. At first, she thought it was another tree, or maybe several of them. The roof was completely gone. Mud and stone walls had been scorched, and were sliding towards the grassy floor. It wasn’t until they got close enough to see the scorched chairs and beds inside that Amaya realized it had been a home.

It was the first, but not the last. Destroyed homes were scattered throughout the valley, like burnt husks sitting in the low greens. They grew more frequent with each passing mile, until there were enough to be able to call whatever had been there a small town.

When they rounded the side of the hill, the sun was already low. It was low enough that Amaya didn’t even register the castle until it was hanging right over them. It was huge, and black as pitch, built right into the hillside. What was once gold paint ran down the walls, over the hillside and into the valley. The rocks and dirt on the trail, and the other destroyed buildings around the castle, were covered in fine sprinkles of gold. 

The elves hardly bothered to look at it. The knight, her golden tears shining in the light of the setting sun, turned her head away. But Amaya turned her head and looked up at it for as long as she could. A chill came over her. 

What could burn down a town full of beings that could control fire?

Amaya had wandered a little off the path in her fascination with the castle, though not far enough to tighten her chains. Suddenly, her foot hit something hard, and she stumbled. Whatever it was went skittering angrily down the path, hitting the heels of the auburn-haired elf walking in front of Amaya.

He looked down and took a step back, surprised and momentarily disgusted. Then, he laughed. Turning to his general, he said, “Guess they still have Revolution scum around these parts, eh?”

The elf met her soldier’s eyes, then tilted her head and looked down at what Amaya had kicked. The golden war paint on her face almost disappeared in the low light. She looked to the blonde elf, who was escorting Amaya again. When she looked back to the other soldier, her expression was cold. 

“Keep moving,” she said. “We should get out of the Waste before sundown.”

The soldier kicked the object back to Amaya, before continuing to march. It rolled in front of her feet again. 

Amaya stopped for a moment, and stared. 

The elven skull looked back at her with wide, empty eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want, you can come say hi to me on tumblr (chiquitablanquita) and/or twitter (chiquitablanqu1)


	4. Chapter 4

The human stood still, head tilted, staring at the elven skull lying in front of her. Janai had to tug on the prisoner’s chains before she would move. 

She meant it when she said they had to leave by sundown. The Waste could be dangerous after dark. 

The Waste was a strip of burnt and abandoned villages along the Queensroad, running from the sea to the outskirts of southern Lux Aurea. The Sunfire elves that once lived there had either fled, or perished when the Revolution's troops descended on them. After the war, no one returned. Farms and fields and villages were rebuilt a few miles north, closer to the city. But years of war had left funds tight, and the bloody, haunted place where the war for Lux Aurea began was never rebuilt.

With the elves gone, the land had been claimed by other beings. Travellers, even soldiers, had to be wary. At night, bandits, poachers, and magical creatures stalked among the tall grasses and empty shells of homes. Human mages sometimes scavenged the area, looking for the scraps of elven corpses, or living magical beings to use for dark magic. Even so, the bodies of some soldiers remained. 

The first time Janai crossed, she was sixteen, and she stepped through the ribcage of a Revolution soldier. Three years out in the open had left the elf little more than a sack of bones in red and black clothes, without even proper gold armor. She still threw up in the grass, after they set up camp for the night. Namara scoffed and said that she was green, but she held Janai’s locs out of her face while she vomited.

“You’d think she’d never seen a dead elf before,” Namara muttered. Janai tugged the prisoner’s chains again, dragging her further away from the skull. Amare, who had kicked the skull at the prisoner, snorted. 

As the sun sank lower in the sky, Janai quickened her pace. Namara and the other four soldiers moved more quickly to keep up. 

* * *

They made it out of the Waste right before sundown, and set up camp near the edge of the city. They made camp in a narrow, flat area, between fields of wheat. They weren’t the first, either. There were several logs set out like seats, and the remnants of an old fire pit. The only problem was that the campsite was entirely open. It wasn’t particularly risky, this close to the city. But, with nothing to bind the prisoner to, she and her knights had to watch the woman in shifts. 

Janai took the first shift, and the last, so that Namara could sleep. Namara tried to protest, but she was too exhausted to really put up a fight. 

With the sun barely beginning to rise over the golden wheat, Janai decided to give the prisoner some more water. She was sure the others hadn’t. It seemed the woman had finally stopped checking for poison, but she still glared at Janai before beginning to drink. 

The woman was constantly looking for ways to irritate Janai and her soldiers, which she supposed was unsurprising. From stalling during bathroom breaks to incessantly tapping on various objects, she was driving them all out of their minds. Janai supposed it was probably her fault, for defending her so vocally. Janai clearly thought she might be valuable, and the woman had caught onto it. So, she continued to be generally infuriating, clearly aware that she would get away with it for the time being.

This time, when the human was done with the water skin, she tossed it to the ground by her side. She didn’t even finish drinking. The prisoner had done that the day before, too, just to make Janai pick the skin up off the ground herself. For a moment, Janai considered leaving it there, just to spite her. But that seemed impractical and childish. She leaned down to pick up the leather skin, the prisoner’s chains still tight in her fist.

She didn’t realize what the human was doing until it was too late. 

As soon as Janai leaned down, the human lunged at her. She grabbed at Janai's waist, fist curling in the belt that crossed her hips and held her sheath in place. Yelping in surprise, Janai tried to get a hold on the woman by her hair, but she ducked. Then, the woman got both hands on the hilt of Janai’s sword, and pulled. 

The sunforged sword came away in the human’s hands. Tossing the sword up just enough to get an underhand grip, she sliced neatly across the chains binding her wrists to Janai. The blazing sword cutting the chains clean through. The human grinned, and Janai felt anger rushing in her veins. A familiar burning, tingling sensation coursed beneath her skin.

The human ran. 

Janai looked to her soldiers, woken by the fight, just stirring from their sleep. Namara, already sitting up, looked at her in confused horror. Janai didn’t have time to explain. She grabbed Namara’s sheathed sword, which was laying on the ground next to her, and ran down the Queensroad. 

Janai knew she was faster than the human, especially as her skin began to glow and warm. The gift of fire burned through her as she followed the human back towards the Waste. She flew through crisp air, down the road that cut through yellow fields shining in the morning light. 

She caught up to the human within half a mile. Janai meant to tackle her to the ground, but before she could, the human side-stepped her and turned. She held out Janai’s sword two-handed. A challenge. 

Janai drew Namara’s sword with one hand. Then, she leveled the sword at the human, skin cooling back to its normal state.

The human grinned. Then, she beckoned Janai forward with one chained hand, the same way she had at the fort.

Janai dove at her, sunforged blade alive in her hands. The human jumped back, parrying, but Janai pressed further, continuing to strike. The human turned one hit, and then the other, blades meeting and parting in a flurry of hot steel.

Her next blow landed hard enough against Janai’s blade to jarr her shoulders. Without her armor, it was clear that the woman was broader-shouldered, and more muscular. Janai could feel it ringing in her blade. Janai gritted her teeth and struck back, putting more force into it. After several hits, her offense began to push the human back, towards the uneven and rocky soil mound that separated the golden fields from the road. 

Forward, back, slide-slash, overhead. Janai met the woman blow for blow, fighting off the burning kiss of sunforged steel. As the fight wore on, Janai noticed that the woman’s strikes were becoming slightly sloppier. She was fighting with her wrists in chains, using a single handed sword as a double, making form hard to maintain. She just needed to wait for an opening.

Step and slide, strike and step, step and strike, up, down, turn, faster, and faster and faster and then… Janai managed to catch the edge of the human’s blade. She turned her own blade and twisted. The stolen blade flew from the woman’s hands, skittering down the dirt path and coming to a stop several feet away. In the distance, Janai caught a glint of moving figures in familiar reds and golds.

Janai and the woman stared at each other. The human’s nostrils flared. Janai’s eyes flickered to the red and gold figures of Namara and her soldiers approaching. They were only a few yards away now. Namara and the rest of their team must have come running after her.

“Give up, human,” she spat, breathing heavily. “It’s over.” 

Namara motioned for the soldiers to surround the woman. The woman’s brows pinched together, and she turned her head to see what Janai was looking at. The woman turned to find Amare standing behind her, sword pointed at her neck. Namara picked up Janai’s sword from where it had fallen, and raised it towards the woman as well. 

Janai wondered, not for the first time, if the woman might be completely deaf. Namara and the rest of Sunfire knights had come running down the well-packed dirt path. The woman should have heard them coming. But she seemed almost surprised when they appeared, as if she had no idea they were there until she turned. 

The human held her hands up in surrender. Amare grabbed her wrists roughly and rechained her, adding shackles to her feet. Janai had told them not to bother with shackles earlier, because they would be a liability in the mountains, and the treacherous territories of the waste. But they were less than a day from Lux Aurea. They’d be traveling on clear and friendly roads now. 

Namara walked over to Janai, examining the inscriptions on the blade in her hand. She offered Janai her blade. Janai took it, holding out Namara’s in return. Instead of taking it, Namara began checking Janai for injuries. 

“I’m not hurt,” Janai protested. Namara looked at her doubtfully, prodding at her shoulders and looking for blood, or winces from Janai. 

“Sometimes you can’t tell at first,” Namara insisted, forcing Janai to hold her arms up while she checked her torso for cuts or broken ribs. “The adrenaline from the fight keeps you from feeling it. And then it’s too late, the battle is over, and you bleed out in the middle of an empty field.” 

Janai forced down the uncomfortable memory of Micah, Namara’s lover, holding their ribs while blood leaked through their fingers.

“I’m okay,” Janai said quietly. After several minutes, Namara finally nodded in satisfaction. Janai gave the signal to begin heading back. 

They headed back to the campsite and packed up, this time leaving two to watch the prisoner instead of one. When they’d finished, Janai and her handful of soldiers began heading towards Lux Aurea. As the sun climbed into a blue sky, a shining city became visible in the distance. 

Home. 

* * *

The throne of Lux Aurea was located at the top of the tiered castle, across from the bridge to the Sun Spear. The castle itself sat on top of a hill, at the center of a wide plateau that stretched several miles across. The plateau, the center of Lux Aurea, was surrounded by rivers, aqueducts, and battlements. Beyond the plateau lay green farmland, orchards, and numerous small villages. 

The war room was one tier down from the throne, one of the few rooms in the palace that didn’t open to a courtyard or garden. Janai made her way there briskly, hand resting on the pommel of her sword. Namara, being her second, usually accompanied her to these sorts of military meetings. She wouldn’t today. 

Janai pushed open the heavy, carved wooden door. The entire war council was already there. They were all standing around the antique battle table, a three dimensional wooden map of Xadia and the human kingdoms. When they saw Janai, the members of the council lowered their heads, crossing their wrists and spreading their fingers. 

There were three members of the council, aside from Janai and Khessa. First, there was their uncle, Ekon, who served as an economic advisor. There was Issa, a severe, gray-haired woman who served as master of laws. And then there was Suri, the high mage of Lux Aurea, and Khessa’s lover, if the rumors were true. Which they were. 

When Janai entered, Khessa turned to look at her. She looked vaguely irritated that her conversation with Suri had been interrupted. 

“Sister,” she said. “I understand you have news from the border.”

“Yes, Queen Khessa,” Janai said, bowing respectfully, because they were in company. Khessa was standing in front of the part of the map representing Lux Aurea, looking at her expectantly. Janai made her way to the other side of the table, where she would be closer to the Breach. 

“As I am sure you’ve heard, several days ago, we managed to retake Fort Divisé at the Border,” Janai began. “However, while the rest of our forces retook the Fort, the battalion was attacked at the Breach. We managed to push back the human forces, but not before they blew a hole in the pathway. We lost a number of our soldiers in the ambush. More were injured.”

“The humans blew a hole in the Breach?” Issa repeated incredulously.

“They wired dynamite through the sides of the cliffs,” Janai said, tracing the narrow pass carved into the map with her finger. “We disengaged most of it, but their general managed to set off one keg. The damage was minimal, but the Breach is uncrossable for the time being.”

“Why would they do that?” Ekon said in his deep voice, scratching his head. “If they’re planning war, isn’t it easiest to cross at the Breach?”

Khessa’s brow furrowed, and she looked down at the place where the Breach was marked on the battlemap. She retrieved a small golden statue from a drawer built into the side of the table. Using a long stick with a wide, flat end, Khessa pushed the golden marker to the Breach. 

“We’ll need to send to Queen Xiomara,” Janai continued, looking over at her sister. “Her Earthbloods can help us reconstruct the path, and divert the flow of the lava.”

“What about their general?” Khessa asked, moving to stand at the opposite side of the table, next to her sister. 

“What about her?” Janai turned to her sister, puzzled. Khessa’s eyes narrowed.

“You know enough about her to recognize her as their leader,” Khessa pointed out. “And she was important enough for you to remember what she was doing. What happened to her, after she set off the keg?”

_She saved my life._

Janai took a long pause. 

“The explosion threw me from the path,” she said quietly. “I was hanging off the cliff by my fingers, over the lava river. Their general helped me up.”

The council was silent. 

“And?” 

“I took her as my prisoner.”

“Do you know who she is?” Khessa demanded. Janai looked at her sister, confused.

“She’s a general in the army of Katolis. She leads their forces at the Border. ” 

“Yes, I understand that,” Khessa snapped. “But what’s her name? Where does she come from?”

Janai blinked. 

“I don’t know,” Janai replied, irritated. “She doesn’t speak the Common Tongue. We’ve sent to the university for a translator, who I’ll be meeting with this afternoon.”

“She speaks some sort of human dialect, then, I’m assuming?” Ekon broke in. Janai began to answer, but Khessa raised another question first. 

“The majority of Katolis, and it’s leadership, speak the Common Tongue,” Khessa said, looking from Janai to her advisors. “If she’s their general, why doesn’t she speak the same language as her leadership?”

“We believe she is mute,” Janai said. “She communicates using some sort of… hand language.”

There was a long pause among the counsel. Even Khessa was silent. But her brow furrowed, and Janai could tell she had more questions. Janai would need to answer them eventually, either here, or in private. 

This was one thing that Janai did not miss about being home. Khessa’s Sources-damned questions.

“Let’s hope you’re right, ” Khessa said finally. “We’ll expect intelligence updates by tomorrow.”

“Your Radiance,” Janai said hastily, “It may take more time than that to get information from her.”

Khessa eyed her sister.

“You will get her name, by whatever means necessary. If she’s a general in their army, she could be valuable. Am I understood?”

Janai’s eye twitched. “Yes, your Radiance.” 

“Good,” Khessa said. “You are all dismissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have the time, comments are greatly appreciated :)   
> I am a big believer in the collaborative nature of fic, so feel free to throw out your thoughts, suggestions, and predictions!   
> <3, isa


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one has been a long time coming! This chapter was particularly fun to write, and I hope you enjoy it :)  
> -isa

Kazi’s day started like any other. 

They rolled out of bed, fumbling for their glasses, red curls flattened against their horns from sleep. They fixed breakfast-- hot oats, and a warm, dark brown drink made from ground beans. It made Kazi jittery if they had too much, which wasn’t great for signing, but the caffeine was good for focus. They spent the next hour at their desk, pouring over books borrowed from the University library. Eventually, the sun came up and began to shine through Kazi’s window, spilling across the pages of the book. 

Kazi technically was not supposed to have library books outside of the library. But after several nights passed out at the library tables, the librarian had let them walk out with a wink. The librarian knew Kazi was cautious. Nothing would happen to the book while they were taking care of it. 

Technically, they studied rare languages, with an emphasis in sign languages. But Kazi always had a particular fascination with human culture. When they’d discovered the small collection of books on human sign languages in the library, they’d fallen down a rabbit hole they had yet to escape from. 

They left for work with the book in their bag, slung over their shoulder. Their boots hit the cobbled walkways with a satisfying smack. Kazi relished in the rhythm of it-- the thrum of their boots on the stones beneath their feet, the comforting weight of the book in their bag swinging with every step. 

Usually, Kazi was the first person into the languages department, and one of the last to leave. They made their way to their corner desk, lined up next to the rest of young scholars’ stations. They sat down, and continued the same thing they’d been doing at home. 

“Are you Kazi? ” a stern voice said, and their head snapped up. 

In front of her stood a tall, serious woman, who Kazi recognized from the University. They’d never spoken. Scholars of their rank rarely associated with the upper echelons. The woman, with her dark, graying dreds pulled into a neat bun, was named Madame Elba. Madame Elba was a royal scholar, a political theorist, tutor to Queen Khessa and Princess Janai in their youth. Kazi sat up a bit straighter. 

“Collect your things and come with me,” the woman said, gesturing for Kazi to get up. 

Kazi scrambled to pack up their things. _Oh, Sun above. This is about the book isn’t it? I knew I never should have taken it out of the library, no matter what the librarian said. I am going to be in so much trouble, why didn’t I just--_

They followed the severe woman down the halls. Wide, open windows looked out on the courtyard gardens. Somewhere, they could hear a fountain, water trickling calmly in the distance. Garden parrots squawked. Kazi’s heart beat a frantic rhythm in their chest. Where the sound of their boots on the cobblestones this morning had been comforting and confident, it had become timid and meek. Kazi tried not to make any noise as they followed Madame Elba and her loud, heeled boots into the administration wing.

Madame Elba opened a fine wooden door to one of the rooms. The space opened out to a larger, sunnier courtyard than the ones facing the halls. The window was thrown open wide, a breeze blowing pleasantly across the long meeting table in the center of the room. 

“Have a seat,” Madame Elba commanded. Kazi sat. To their shock, the woman began speaking almost conversationally. “Did you know that you are the only person in this university studying human sign language?”

Kazi blinked. 

“That _would_ explain why there is no competition for texts,” Kazi said blandly. _Bringing up the text was stupid. Sun and stars. What if she asks you about the book next?_

To Kazi’s surprise, Madame Elba laughed. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who laughed. The expression looked odd on her face. She probably meant to ease Kazi, but it didn’t help. Kazi breathed slowly. _In. Out._

“Are you able to sign in the human dialect?” she asked. “I know you are proficient in Lux Aurean sign language, since it was part of the reason we admitted you to the program, but I imagine the human variation is quite different.” 

It was several moments before Kazi was able to respond. Madame Elba already knew them, and threw it out flippantly. Kazi hadn’t realized they’d been brought to the program because they knew Lux Aurean sign language. Sign language was second-nature. A fact of life when half of the family didn’t hear. It was the reason for their interest in sign languages, certainly, but Kazi had never thought anyone else noticed. Or cared. 

“I’ve been teaching myself,” Kazi said. “I’ve actually been studying the origins of human and elven variations of sign language, and they’re quite similar. I have a theory that there was a single common sign language at one point, before the Great Divide, at which point humans branched off, and… ” Kazi trailed off. _Did I say too much? I did, didn’t I?_

But Madame Elba smiled slightly, just an upward quirk of her lip. Kazi’s heart stilled.

“That’s good,” she said. “Very good. Would you be able to interpret human sign language?”

“Possibly,” they said cautiously. “But it would depend on the region. The different human kingdoms have variations in their sign languages. I’ve only had access to resources from the border kingdoms of Katolis and Duren.”

“You’d need to interpret for someone from Katolis,” Madame Elba said. “And with the utmost accuracy. The information this person holds is of critical military importance.”

“I can do that,” Kazi said, before they could second-guess themselves. 

“Very well,” Madame Elba said, standing. “You’ll be taken to the Palace this afternoon to meet with Princess Janai before the interrogation.”

“Princess Janai?” Kazi squeaked.

“You’ll be interpreting whatever information she can get from the prisoner,” Madame Elba looked at Kazi. “You’ll be representing the university in this. I trust you will not disappoint us.”

“No, Madame Elba.” Kazi forced their voice steady. 

When they looked down, their hands were trembling. 

* * *

Kazi was born in the outskirts of Lux Aurea, before the Great War. Their family moved to the city when they were nine, among the earliest in a wave of refugees. The small town Kazi had called home as a child was later torched and burned. Shortly after, Lux Aurea proper was held under siege for almost a year. 

Their family were fierce loyalists. After the end of the siege, they’d crowded into the streets with thousands of other citizens to watch the newly coronated Queen Khessa ride out of the city to face single combat with her Challenger. Kazi thought the young Queen was made of gold, with her long pale hair, and shining armor. 

Queen Khessa rode back into the city less than a day later. She was muddy, covered in blood, but smiling-- victorious. The people celebrated in the streets, calling out the name of their young Queen. Queen Khessa, who’d vanquished the Challenger and her greedy noble supporters. Queen Khessa, who’d shown warrior’s honor in the face of evil and won. 

The military prowess of the Queen’s younger sister became well-known in Lux Aurea in the years that followed. Princess Janai, Golden Knight, General of the Queen’s Forces, defended the city from all manner of invaders. She secured the border from human attacks, fought off assassins, and wiped out the remaining supporters of the Challenger. She was virtually undefeated in the field. 

Somehow, Princess Janai wasn’t what Kazi was expecting. Kazi had expected the princess to be a younger version of her sister-- another bright, elegant, pale-haired woman armored in gold. Instead, Princess Janai was quiet, sturdy, with long, deep red locs and a burgundy uniform. 

Where Queen Khessa had been golden, Princess Janai was the color of blood. Where Queen Khessa was the Sun, Princess Janai looked like wildfire. 

It occurred to Kazi that Queen Khessa rode out to battle younger than Kazi was now. It didn’t stop their lip from trembling. 

When Kazi entered the room, Princess Janai looked up. Both Kazi and Madame Elba crossed their arms, splaying their fingers and bowing respectfully. 

“Your Radiance,” they said simultaneously. The princess nodded in recognition.

“Madame Elba,” the princess said, her voice deeper than Kazi expected. As she spoke, she turned to look at Kazi. Her head tilted slightly, as she were if examining them, and Kazi had to force themselves not to shift their weight under her gaze. “And you are the interpreter?” 

“They are, Princess,” Madame Elba confirmed. Kazi nodded in agreement. “Kazi has spent the past several years studying sign languages at the University. No one is better qualified.”

The princess turned to Madame Elba, her golden helmet winking in the light. “Thank you for handling this.” She bowed respectfully to the older elf. 

“Of course, your Radiance,” she replied, bowing in return. There was a flash of warmth in the slight smile she gave the princess before she turned and left, leaving Kazi behind.

“Walk with me,” the princess said, turning and gesturing for Kazi to follow her out of the room.

“Yes, Princess.” Kazi said, hurrying to fall in step behind her. 

“I prefer to go by General,” the princess said. Kazi’s face immediately flushed. 

“Yes, General,” Kazi corrected themselves. “I’m sorry, General.”

“It’s no matter,” she said. “My old tutor has always insisted on calling me by my formal title.” 

Kazi was quiet as they followed the princess through the halls of the castle and back out into the sunlit courtyards. The castle, rather than being a single closed building, was built in separate tiers. The outer edges of each formed outdoor courtyards and gardens, filled with birds and tropical plants swinging in the breeze. The princess walked deliberately, sparing no time making her way through the place. As they made their way to the lower tiers of the castle, Kazi had to hurry to keep pace behind her. 

“Where are you from, Kazi?” she asked suddenly, looking back at them. 

“The Western Quarter,” Kazi answered, surprised that the General asked. “Near the university.”

“You have a Southern accent. Vallei, perhaps?”

Kazi started. “Yes. I was born in a small village in the South, along the Queensroad. We left for Lux Aurea when we heard that the Challenger was coming to claim the valley.” 

The General’s expression flickered. The two walked a long distance in silence, before the princess opened a golden door that led them down a long, dark flight of stairs. She quickened her pace as she headed down the stairs, leaving Kazi scrambling to keep up.

“The human prisoner communicates in some sort of hand language.” she said. 

“Sign language, actually,” Kazi corrected, slightly breathless from trying to keep up. “And she probably uses Katolis sign language specifically. You see, many of the regions use different--”

“Can you translate or not?” the General cut in. 

“Yes, of course.” Kazi said, hoping their voice was even. For good measure, they added, “I was top of my class in linguistics.”

The General continued down the steps. 

“Though, I suppose a hand language would not technically be linguistics. What would you call it?” Kazi added. _You’re rambling. Stop rambling._ “Finguistics?” 

The General didn’t reply. She was already headed into the fiery chamber. _Why did you have to add that, Kazi? Puns, really? She’s a general, for sources’ sake._ Kazi followed her into the chamber, just in time to see the General’s skin flare, and her veins fill with fire. 

_Spirit’s above._ Kazi had heard the princess had the gift of fire. It was something else entirely to see the heat course through her limbs, lighting her up from the inside. When the General turned to look at them, the whites of her eyes were black, her pupils pinpoints of light. The General gestured for Kazi to follow, and then stepped into the flames. 

Taking a deep breath, Kazi followed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, if you stuck around this far! 
> 
> I also want to say thanks to my wonderful co-creators, Kuki and Ames, and my beta ikknowplaces (here on AO3) for all the wonderful feedback, ideas, and general good times! 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr (chiquitablanquita) or twitter (chiquitablanqu1)! I'm going to be posting some bonus content there, hopefully :)
> 
> \- isa


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